In the top drawer of Alan’s delectable desk, I found a ball no larger than one you would use in a game of tennis. I think it’s made of light. It did not shock me, Alan commanded an aura of difference befitting grand desks and otherworldly objects in a mid-level administration office; But what could it be for? My subconscious must know better than I, it’s overriding the control I had over where my eyes lie. My god is it mesmerising, I cannot, seem to…

Reach for it.

It’s not mine.

Grab it, take it for yourself.

No! Shut the drawer. The slam startled me back into my mind, and tempted a small flock of co-workers to poke inquisitive eyes over claustrophobic cubicles. I dismissed them with eye contact and an impersonal smile, striding as far away from Alan’s delectable desk as my job description allowed.

♠          ♠          ♠

Day 4, 14:45. Alan had left the office again. Increased surveillance had revealed a method behind his excursions; Each day he would leave the hour after the last, precisely at the following multiple of 15. Yesterday it was 13:30, tomorrow it would be 16:00. I hadn’t followed the pattern through its cycle of a shift yet – that would have to be a problem for day 6.

By 14:45:27 I could see the light. I was exalted in its presence, lifted above the normalcy, the tedium, of work in a mid-level administration office. Because of it the twitch that toyed with the left side of my upper body had calmed. I’d been sleeping restless, though my dreams – historically a jumbly nonsense – had exploded to a level at which I found it difficult to state with confidence that reality predominated during waking hours.

I couldn’t bring myself to touch the marvel at my fingertips. It beckoned, but I was nervous – Balls of light in my world tended to be encased in glass. This one, as far as I could see, adjusted itself according to stimulus. When I open the drawer each day it greets me as a friend, pulsing with excitement and painting pictures in my mind using spectral tendrils observed with absolute absorption. It’s teaching me to see. Each day I catch a glimpse of a new corner of the Universe and every night I embark on the next leg of the guided tour. Life has been absent so far. Though, I hope, not for long.

Alan! He returns at 15:00. I must go.

♠          ♠          ♠

Day 739. All I can see is stars. I sleep for 22 hours at a time, It’s not rest. Where am I? All I see is stars. And empty space. Nothing, Mostly nothing. Can nothing be seen? There is always something. Not here. Only space. And stars. Where am I? Life, I hope to see life soon.

Alan! He’ll return in a fume, I must go! Oh no, no no. Alan, no.

♠          ♠          ♠

I cannot remember the time when last I woke, Time does not exist in eternity.

I witnessed life, it’s conception and the end of history.

Pride abounds.

I often think of my body. I wonder if it waits on the return of its owner… Could it be that a soul anew had earned ownership of the form I had once known so well? The limitations. I must find out.

Alan! I am coming for you. 11:00. Be ready for me, 16:00 I shall teach you how to see.

Written by RJP

Freelance writer of fiction (poetry, short stories and - one day - novels) and non-fiction articles. To date, the majority of work on display has been random items of practice that seek to test the limits of imagination whilst attempting to weave various ideas on society and the pursuit of understanding. Stay tuned.

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